The Fox in Center Field

Marcus stood behind the outfield fence, golden retriever Luna at his heels, watching the baseball team practice like he was conducting some kind of covert operation. His dog sat patiently, tongue lolling, while Marcus mentally rehearsed conversation starters that definitely wouldn't sound weird.

"She's gonna think you're a total creep," his best friend Jamal had warned earlier that day. They'd been in Marcus's room, surrounded by empty Gatorade bottles and half-eaten pizza, the fan chugging against the summer heat. "You're not a spy, Marcus. You're just a freshman who can't talk to girls."

Easy for Jamal to say. He wasn't the one crushing on Riley Fox, whose last name matched her reputation perfectly—elusive, clever, and seemingly impossible to catch. She patrolled center field like she owned everything between the foul lines, her red hair caught in a messy ponytail, calling out plays with this voice that carried halfway to Timbuktu.

Marcus had been taking his little brother's gummy vitamins all week, convinced they'd somehow transform him into someone brave enough to actually talk to her. His mom caught him popping two grape-shaped ones before school and gave him this look, like *really?* but didn't say anything. Sometimes moms knew when to stay out of it.

The baseball coach blew his whistle, and the team scattered. Riley bent to adjust her cleats, and Luna—traitor that she was—bounded toward the fence, tail wagging like she'd found her best friend.

"Hey there, buddy," Riley called, reaching through the chain links to scratch Luna's ears. She looked up and caught Marcus staring. "Your dog?"

"Y-yeah," Marcus managed. "Her name's Luna. She likes... baseball?"

Riley laughed, and it was better than any victory he'd ever imagined on a field. "You coming to tryouts next week? We could use some outfield depth."

His heart did something that felt genuinely illegal. "You think I should?"

"I think," she said, crouching to pet Luna again, "that anyone whose dog has this good taste in people probably has potential."

She winked—actually winked—and jogged back to her teammates. Marcus stood there frozen, Luna now thoroughly distracted by a butterfly, and realized his spy days were officially over.

"Dude," he whispered to no one, "those vitamins actually worked."